You know what upsets me the most about growth? It’s the caring. Before in my reckless and carefree days I didn’t give a fuck about nothing. I would cuss someone out, talk shit about somebody, fight somebody and I would still sleep easy with no issues. Most of the time drunk, but sleep none the less.
Now. One conversation with someone will have me in my head for days. I don’t reach out to people because I don’t want to bother them, or I just don’t have much to say. Which causes conversations I do have, as few as they are, to be lengthy and jammed packed full of information. Like I am afraid that will be the last time we talk.
I think about what my legacy will be and I change it several times. It will simply be she was a complex person who never knew what she wanted. I am tired.
The problem for me is knowledge. Not just education knowledge, cause I mean… the chick just did get her Masters Degree in Public Relations. ***applause here***
My bad. Focus right.
I have gained knowledge from following my spirit and accepting my gifts. I can read body language, tone of voice and auras. I can see the whole truth of most situations and most view points. But that is what makes me good at my job, at knowing the markets, knowing different audiences, and ultimately knowing how to build personas. But that is what also makes it so hard knowing my own voice.
This makes me bored with simple conversations. I am used to having life or death conversations, that now all situations seem to need immediate closure for me. I know more than the people I spend the entirety of my day, and that makes me simply thirsting for cultured conversations. I spend my life with teenagers and young adults who are babies to the world I have survived through.
I was never a role model and having to be the “O.G.” is too much. I am the one your parents warned you about, just all grown up and the ones I look after, I don’t want that for them. I had a hard life and I am still cleaning up from it. And yet still having to defend it. My truths are being questioned and because I care, I am in a sense of questioning myself. While those pointing fingers sleep peaceful.
In a world when I didn’t care. That would’ve never happened. And they know that, but I feel tested.
But I also don’t know why I care. So I sit.
Overthinking.
Not sleeping.
Not eating because food doesn’t taste right. So losing weight.
I am tired.
I just really really want to be happy. I have opened myself up to so many people who only wanted what I could give to them. No one has ever just reached back to help me. And if they did, it was always at a cost. A cost I am not willing to give.
I am tired.
I am a single, overweight, missing a front tooth, educated, black, kinda gay, lonely, BORED AF woman. But I am safe. Shouldn’t I be greatful?
outside, but the way to your dorm is lit and there isn’t that long of a walk. You pass a few people on the way to your dorms but most of the campus is quiet and empty. As you see your dorm come into view you are pulled to the ground, mouth covered and raped. You happen to get a glimpse of the guy who assaults you and notice he’s the head of the football team. 
Tiffany M. Arnold 